Conversations that I have with my man, quite late one evening...

Me: I love pearl barley
Him: Oh, you're so easily pleased
Me: Stews, soups, casseroles...
Him: jewelry
Me: ?
Him: Just drill a hole in it and thread it onto spaghetti

...that show he's as much of a loon as I am.

Offloading DC responsibility - does that mean your bum shrunk instantly? (Note that's not supposed to mean it was big to start with!)

Indeed, I am far less bum-laden than I was. Who needs Blob Watchers when you can simply move down the Guiding ladder?! :-)

I spent all day yesterday trying to get onto Blogger but it wasn't playing ball, so I've missed the opportunity to spout forth about my dream involving hotels, shoe swapping, cotton wool and a rubber dingy. I've also forgotten the subtle nuances of the conversation snippets I wanted to share that arose as a result of the annual "Wear what you dare " day yesterday, where I dressed up as a war memorial. I wasn't able to share my relief about last night's Guide district meeting, where I was finally able to offload most of the commissioner's responsibilities, meaning the district will run far more efficiently and smoothly. I couldn't even wax lyrical about my fantastic tutor session where we talked about politics in the UK and the US and played 'guess the politician' from a page of cabinet members' photos.

Instead I spent the time writing a Christmas song title quiz for Guides. Rock and Roll!

After two weeks eating like a woman condemned to death and facing her last meal, I decided on Sunday that is was time to go back to the blob-watch healthy eating regime. I was very good yesterday - lots of veg, a smattering of exercise, self-controlled in all I thought, said and did - but I sort of slipped today.

I've had a thin day today - my skirt felt far too big and I was complemented by a colleague. Despite this, I was good at resisting the chocolate biscuits at break; I took the smallest piece of pie at dinner; I even chose to buy an apple rather than chocolate during the break in my dyslexing this evening. Then I came home and it all went wrong.

The leeks were perfectly acceptable under the healthy regime, as were the onions, mushrooms and garlic. Even gently fried and mixed with cheese as a pancake filling, they would have been great. I'm not sure if it was the whole bottle of wine or the discovery of the jar of toffee sauce in the cupboard that caused my downfall. Either way, I've got a lot of healthy living to do in the next few days if I'm to make up for it all. Off to dream about jogging...

Things that make me chortle:

Found at the bottom of an email from some bloke who's offering me 10% of his family's fortune that is being mercilessly hunted down by a malevolent government

Please do not share my email addess with anyone as I have received some emails from some unscrupulos people claiming to be charity organisations and other weird stories.

Should you be a charity organisation, a weird person, or have any unscrupulos [sic] stories, please direct them to Mr Paul Wang at wang_55@fastermail.com. Thank you.

The first day back at school after half-term is reaching its close. Although half-term was much needed, it's been nice being back at the chalk-face. I've had a good day, and I hope that it remains this way during the next two months.

The first week of half-term was spent in Greece on a Classics trip (my second of the year). I have been declared an honorary Classicist for my dedication to the subject; I still maintain that I'm not worthy enough, but it would be churlish indeed to refuse such a prestigious title! We spent three days looking at rubble - in Athens, Delphi and Ancient Olympia - then moved on to Tolon, a beach resort, to indulge in more rubble, sand, sea, boat trips, pedalo races and a "sandcastle on a Classical theme" competition. 'Twas grand.

Greece was followed straightaway by Guide holiday: thirteen girls aged 10 and 11, all camping virgins, who spent three days learning how to put up tents and cook for themselves. They managed to put up a mess tent with far less fuss than most adults would manage, so things are looking promising for next summer's camping!

After Guide camp I headed off to blustery Snowdonia with the Boy Wonder, returning via my parents' for dinner and his first offical 'meet the parentals' session. Luckily he's a tolerant bunny and survived with barely a mark on him.

The final excitement of the holiday was the arrival of Fatso III. I picked him up from my Fatso dealer on Friday, and he travelled home in a box on Saturday. He's big, fast, fat, fluffy-bottomed and ginger - I tried to photograph him but my phone cam's just not fast enough. I'll try again later, so you too can appreciate his cuteness at close quarters. Bless.

Before I write anything about my holidays, I will just alert you to the shortage of lard that is occuring in our continent. Peruse the shelves at your local supermarket to discover the extent of this calamity! Yikes!

ps - if your local purveyor of lardy products has some available, please can you buy some for me... my pastry's suffering!

School trip to Greece - hot but good.

Guide camp training weekend - great fun but knackering.

Now off to enjoy a couple of days without having to look after reams of kids - bliss.

It's been the penultimate day of teaching before the half-term holiday. It's been a day for escaping the villge and getting into the big wide world where there are shops that sell books and CDs and toiletries and bikinis that actually fit. It's been an evening for buying sandwiches that are reduced from £2.50 to 10p, for eating far too many confectionary products, for going to the pub. It's a night for collapsing on the bed, dreaming of foreign climes and tomorrow's trip to Greece.

If I don't make it to a pooter for the next couple of weeks, you know where I'll be: living life, not writing about it. Have fun...

Have spent the evening washing clothes, answering the phone and wading through my inbox. What an exciting life I lead. Perhaps I should feature in an advert to recruit teachers... how could anyone want to turn down the chance to have such evenings of thrills and spills?! Blimey.

To be fair, I suppose that it was quite productive. It still doesn't make it any more exciting though.

Sometimes things don't quite work out as you plan them, but sometimes that's ok, and what you end up with is far better than the original scheme.

My holiday plans for this coming half-term have been very much like this. I have a week in Greece with school (looking at ruins and temples, I suspect, and mebbe the odd galss of ouzo too) and then three days on Guide camp/holiday (teaching the little darlings how to put up tents, in preparation for next summer's big camp). After all that excitement, the original plan was to escape to the country for a couple of days with the Boy Wodner. I was looking forward to sitting reading in front of an open fire, or mooching through autumnal woodland, kicking up leaves and getting back in touch with my inner-child, which has been sadly missing this term.

Some things just aren't meant to be.

I was phoned at lunchtime today by the lady at the holiday company to confess that there had been a double-booking and would I mind changing the dates if they lowered the price to make up for it? A few frantic phonecalls later and we re-arranged for a weekend just before Christmas, with a 50% discout to make it even better. Wooh!

My braincell's making a bid for freedom via my ears. I wish it would stop: I don't have time to go off chasing it.

Forgot to say:

Tonight I got an NUS card for the first time in many years. Discounts, here we come!!

A happy three hours spent dyslexing always make Tuesday into a fine day, even if I have to faff about on a netball court beforehand. What's made it even better is the discovery of a programme on the radio called The Music Goes Round. It's presented by a bloke who sounds just like he looks: old, cheery, happily knowledgeable. Trying to work out the connection between each of the tunes he plays is enough to keep my braincell from stagnating, and also acts as an incentive to get home quickly: if I'm not back before 7.30 I have to endure The Organist Entertains!

Life is silly busy here - I'm off to Greece in a school trip in 4 days' time, so I've planned out the week hour by hour. Although I can (just!) fit all my commitments in, I've certainly got little time free for marking. Waaah!

Back from a delightfully loungey weekend in Cheltenham with the Boy Wonder. 'Twas good. We at lunch today at The Beehive in Montpellier Villas: the food was excellent - definitely somewhere to go back to! We then went home and made shortbread (luscious) and pizza dough (stringy and sticky, not to mention very thick when cooked). Now I feel stuffed. So much for my healthy eating drive!

Just back. Very sleepy but good. I love Durham.

Off now to Pink-Panther-ville:

Durham, Durham, Durham durham durham....

Tomorrow I'm teaching all morning, then off to Durham after lunch accompanying Ian and three pupils. Ian's speaking at the Union Society - This House believes that your A-levels are not worth the paper they're written on - and I've been press-ganged into being Sherpa and general yak herder for the trip. Apparently we have a parking space reserved on Palace Green, so I shall be off to trample across Castle's croquet lawn before anyone can stop me. Bwah-ha-ha-ha!!

Why is it, on the day that we have potato wedges and garlic mayonnaise for tea, that my will-power suffers a sudden breakdown and I eat as though I've not seen food before?

It's a good job I'm not due to snog anyone for the next 36 hours.

I was observed teaching today by one of the the senior managers in school. He was impressed by my lesson, althuogh I'm not sure why as it covered topics such as 'dumping people by text message' and 'gossip in the staff room'. Still, his comments made me smile.

Time to do some marking...

This is the first time I've sat down and taken "me time" since 8.30 this morning. School merged straight into D of E, into kit returns, into dinner in the House, into orchestra and now into duty night in the House.

I'm not, it has to be said, a great fan of Wednesdays.

After an hour of devious schemeing, I've managed (hopefully) to get rid of the Guide DC job. All that's needed for this plan's success is for the "willing volunteers" to agree to becoming both volunteers and willing. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

Have had a good day all round: my teaching has had a lot more sparkle; this afternoon's games session was passable; and dyslexing was great. All I've got to do now is tidy up and get some dinner before Kate arrives at 8.30pm to try and sort out my Guiding mess. I'm trying to give up being DC, but it's not going too well at the moment: I think they finally got the message at last week's division meeting, so I'll see what comes of tonight's discussions.

Better go and get the hoover out!

Wanky blogger - it's having a spaz and has published loads of my last post. Waaaah.

I'm still snot-ridden and suffering, but things have been much better today. My netball session was cancelled, I got my reports written on time, I've talked to the Boy Wonder* and have had my fingers tied in knots at string orchestra. Admittedly it's hard to type with my fingers making some masochistic cats-cradle, but it's been good to get the old braincell thinking again.

* Who's been out of the country for a week on a scuba diving course. Pah. It's alright for some.

I am snot-ridden and sneezing. Whinge, whinge, moan.

Going back to bed was postponed in deference of seaching the net looking for amusing things. Over at Ordinary Morning, Melly has been posting videos. This one made me laugh more than most though.

I suddenly have three unexpected hours of freedom. I'd anticipated spending all day involved with an event for some of our feeder prep schools, but - after helping to smooth the arrival, signing-in and briefing session - I'm now free and facing the dilemma of what to do with myself. I think I might just go back to bed.

Have consumed too much wine to type, but am not too drunk to appreciate the beautiful mackeral pate or the opportunity to massage Ian's feet.

I suspect I won't appreciate it tomorrow.

Things that have amused me today, in no particular order:

* The boy who came up to me at the start of the lesson to apologise for his lack of homework, grovelling profusely and blaming it on a lost homework diary. I looked at him quizzically, noticed his mate starting to giggle manically, and broke the news that there wasn't any prep due in until next week and that his mate was having him on. I've not seen someone look simultaneously annoyed and embarrassed before, but it was a sight to behold.

* I covered a GCSE Classical Civilisations lesson for a colleague, and his set were researching housing in Pompeii on the internet. Having been on a Classics trip to Pompeii this year, I felt pretty confident about it all. As I arrived at the IT room, two of the boys were looking at a website about mobile phones. I told them that the Romans didn't have mobiles so they could stop that area of research, when one of them told me that instead of mobiles they used pottery cups on the end of a long piece of string. "What," I asked, "So they can call each other and go 'Hey, are you free? Let's go and throw some Christians to the lions'?" Unfortunately the deputy head, a proper Classicist, was walking through the computer room at this moment and looked slightly aghast. Luckily she didn't hear my comments about the frequency of the giant phallus at Pompeii, or I really would have been sacked.

* Can't think of another thing. Standing on the sidelines of an inter-House hockey match has numbed my fingers and my braincell. As my nose thaws, it's beginning to run and I'm risking snot in the keyboard at this rate. Better go and find some tissues...

Friday night's Guide meeting always fills me with joy. To be fair, it normally gives me a headache too, but they're just soooo great. We have two 14-year-old Young Leaders, and then twenty 10- and 11-year-old girls: they organise their own activities for at least an hour each week, working far better in groups than some of my oh-so-mature teenage pupils. Bless 'em, I love 'em all. Aaah.

The only problem with eating a slice of melon for breakfast is that you end up with juice running across your face and down your arms. Small price to pay, really.

Fatso's death hasn't really sunk in yet. I still look in his cage when I walk into my sitting room, expecting to see him scampering about, or at least snuggled up in his purple bedding. It seems strange to think that he's not there. I'll never forget the special experiment to ascertain exactly how many chewy-bar-thing he could get in his cheek pouches* nor the fact that he used to squeak along to the Beach Boys** He would also provide great amusement during my nights on duty, where he would venture up to visit the girls and would get fussed more in twenty minutes that I would manage in a week. He even went on holiday***, had such a fan club that he was sent hamster porn by email**** and was brought presents from afar.

Fatso 3 has a lot to live up to.

* Answer: six. He might have managed more but he got stuck in the doorway of his house and was reluctant to eat more.
** Proving what a cool and culcha'd ham he really was
***To the Biology Department, where he got to play with gerbils, stick insects and tarantulas
**** To his own email address, of course: I might be a luddite but he wasn't

There are days when the internet seems full of junk. This video means that today is not one of them.

Found at Geekward Ho

I feel calmer now. I was discovered weeping and wailing by my line manager, who hugged me and fed me strong hot chocolate, which was much appreciated. By "strong" I mean "practically liquid Diary Milk", so there goes any chance of healthy eating for today. (To be fair, pudding at lunch was jam roly-poly and custard, so I was probably well over my points allowance anyway. Hey ho)

The upshot of our discussion is that she's managed to find me some time off tomorrow so I can get some sense of personal space and equilibrium. I feel guilty that I won't be doing the things that I'm meant to be doing, but I reckon that I'll be worse than useless if I don't take some time out.

What a stupid situation to be in.

I can't do this any longer. I'm not doing a good job, not at school, not at Guides, not at anything. I hate feeling so out of control. There has to be a better way of living. Why do I feel so crap?

Fatso 2: running the eternal hamster wheel in the sky

Today has been a day governed by To Do lists and hour-by-hour plans. Sometimes I long for a 9 'til 5 job: at least you know when the working day is due to end.

Have dyslexed well and feel happy with my lot. Am contemplating cooking a big, garlicky, mushroomy, courgettey accompaniment for my pasta. This thought pleases me: will ponder it for a while longer because of the pleasure I'm getting from my imagination.

Teaching this morning was blurry-squinty-eyed and woolly-headed. I now have that sort of wide-eyed stare caused by too much caffeine, and I'm off to Nottingham to dyslex for a couple of hours: I just hope I stay awake during the course else I'm bound to dribble, which is always a bad move when surrounded by those who don't know you. Pish.

Proving the little box o'er there is still useful:

Typo in the new links, Martin\'s page should start http:// not hptt://

Duly corrected. Cheers!

This weekend was one of double bookings and last-minute panic, not to mention confusion and general head-slapping imbecility. Saturday involved teaching, a smattering of marking, schmoozing with parents at lunch in the House and an afternoon/evening on duty. This was all fairly straightforward, apart from the fact that I was also meant to be a) getting ready for a committee meeting on Sunday; and b) getting ready for a D of E expedition on Sunday. Those of you who are astute, or even merely awake, will notice a bit of a clash.

What made this clash worse was the fact that I'd noticed it in my diary several weeks ago but forgot to send apologies. I only remembered this when I was sitting on a coach at some ungodly hour on Sunday morning heading off to the Peak District, at which point I looked through my mobile's contact list to discover that I had no-one's mobile number to let them know. I did send a text to someone, but I now know that they didn't receive it until 7pm on Sunday, by which point I had long missed the meeting and was instead sitting in a campsite to the north of Chatsworth cooking goats' cheese and pesto tortelloni with a tomato and basil sauce. After all, when camping, you might as well do it in style! To make matters even worse, after texting I then got off the coach and left my mobile on the seat: it's a good job there were no accidents while walking as I was the emergency contact! Whoops!

Yesterday was more walking, finishing in a tea-shop in Eyam. The groups were great: well-prepared (in general) and committed to their walk. There are one or two aspects to work on - such as tent pitching and cooking - but a lot of the basic skills are in place.

Yesterday evening, after strings, I chose to go for beer and a curry in Lichfield instead of going to bed early. It was great at the time, but I'm paying for it now. Better go and teach...

Have played about with it, and mebbe have worked out comments too. Who knows?

I think perhaps it's time for me to do some pruning and arranging: have found many good things recently that I ought to get linked from here. This means that I'll have to play around with my blog template. That's quite a scary prospect!

Warning: Guiding-related post. It's not exciting, unless you're that way inclined.

Before I took over my Guide unit in June, the Guider in charge was a lady of more mature years called Sheila. Sheila was a hoarder. Anything she found that could be potentially used at Guides went straight into the cupboard. All of the games and resources she made were also filed there. On second thoughts, "filed" implies that there was a logical system to it: if there was such a system, I couldn't find it. As a result, when Jen and I took over last term, our first job was to sort through the equipment.

Our first night of Guides without Sheila was an eye-opener. Jen took the two Young Leaders off into the room with the cupboard and spent two hours throwing things out. She used the YL's reactions to decide if things should be thrown or kept: "What's that? I've never seen one of those" "I'd never play that game" "Why on earth have we got that?!?" By the end of the evening, the cupboard was far emptier.

Last night we had another go at it. Three more bin-bags of rubbish came out of the room with the cupboard. Treasures now lost forever include a 1972 map of the area (used for walking round the area during last year's night hike: eeek!), several school hymn books and twenty bazillion felt-tip pens. Copies of The Brownie magazine from the 1950s and 60s were unearthed, then promptly binned; likewise a set of Your Patrol magazines from the early 90s. We also found a box full of Guide badges and cards (surprisingly up-to-date) and some thank-you cards from a party held way back in June: we'd not given them out becasue we didn't know that they existed!

I offer a big apology to those who are wincing at the wanton destruction of valuable archive material, but - and trust me on this - I feel far better about it all. I've still got the camping store to finish off, with its collection of 1950s canvas and mismatching tent poles, but that can wait for a sunnier day.

I have much to write about my Guide cupboards, but I'm running out of Ribena and awakeness. Got to sleep instead.

I'm on duty tomorrow, so will be stuck in the House: I'll write it then. Brace yourselves...

There's a flying beastie out there that's determined to feast on my blood. I'm just going to have to slather myself in Mosi-Guard and Anthisan before sleeping. Bah!

Caz writes...

But Mad how can you have Big Hair when its so short? I on the other hand have perfected messy/wind blown hair on site (although this time tomorrow it'll be 6inches shorter :)). Caz

...proving quite how long it's been since I saw her last. My hair is far longer that it's been for a while (i.e. since it was first cut off when I was 20) and is more than capable of being big, as this picture shows:

As a bonus bit of extra coverage, as it were, here's a photo of my eyes that I took by accident, but liked too much to delete:

I've been having a bit of a duff time recently. Not duff as in 'really, really, EXTREMELY crappy' but duff as in over-committed and failing to do any job well because I don't have enough time. I've begun to feel guilty when I stop working to take some time out, because I know there's a huge pile of marking waiting to be done. I feel generally over-stretched and stressed, and it's making me short-tempered and snappy with the kids. This weekend coming is Duke of Edinburgh expedition - my first as the D of E co-ordinator - and there's been shitloads of tents, waterproofs and rucksacks to sort out. It's been rubbish.

Today, though, I got to escape from school to go to Brum for a D of E conference. I came back feeling far more positive about the whole thang, and then found this lovely message in my inbox:

Diss highlights: Workplace let down: 1; Lecturer insulted: 1 Words over: 1,500 New undergraduates scared in the library: 3 (scary big hair has a lot to answer for) Terrors over inaccurate representation of archive: 2.5 Friend's website current record for stress busting: 100%!! Have fun with your course! Charl

It's good to know we bring pleasure to some! In fact, Auntie Charl has obviously got quite a lot of work to avoid, because she's also written this:

Mark iii charl wisdom (also known as avoiding dissertation supremo) re viola playing: you need to purchase some 'self deluding earphones' available from selected stores: like their equivalent, the 'self deluding specs', apparently excellent results can be achieved with the minimum of work / self flagellation for crapness/ mediocrity [nb: not for communal use. May cause long term allergies - patch test before use]

Seems I'm not the only one having a work crisis!

World, be warned: I've managed to buy an 80s disco 4 CD compilation in an HMV sale. Bad singing and dancing, not to mention big hair, are looking pretty essential right now.

I was contemplating doing marking this evening, but was sidetracked by a friend's party. We drank lots of wine and then admired his music system. This man has the most phenomenal CD collection (a result, I suspect, of being a long-standing music reviewer in his spare time) and I found a recording of Max Reger's suites for solo viola. I've had a book of this music for a number of years and have dipped in and out of the pieces. Needless to say, they're all very difficult and depend upon absolutely accurate intonation (always a challenge for the viola player!). As I burble this bloggage, suite number one is playing in the background.

I'm sure it didn't sound like this when I played it.

My favourite tipple of a monday morning is at least 2 mugs of black coffee and a bottle of Pepsi Max (or similar caffiene containing drink as approved by the engineer) ... usually works! However I find the ultimate pick me up is going home early .. after feeling tired all day at work, I go home and wake up ?!??! Caz

Sadly, no such luxury as bunking off early here, although I feel quite invig'd after dyslexing. Besides, Caz has a good incentive to get home early nowadays!

I like wendy's suggestion best, but ta for the recipe! Will report on success... - Mal.

Let's hope they go down well. I didn't get many complaints on Sunday (we took them to the races) and I've had no reports of poisoning since, so I reckon that's a fairly healty endorsement! Talking of endorsement, here's Auntie Charl recommending her favourite way to acquire biscuit-snacky-goodness:

re ginger biscuits: or go to shop, find biscuit counter, get mcvities Charl

She is so wise.

Pick-me-up suggestions flooding in:

Best pick me up is a TVR - Tequila, Vodka and Red Bull... Pinky

speed? wendy

I hear ginger biscuits are a good pick-me-up. Speaking of which, want to share the recipe? I need a good biscuit recipe to impress my colleagues. - Mal. :)

Me ma's basic cutter-biscuit recipe:
8 oz self-raising flour
5 oz butter or marg
4 oz sugar
1 egg
1 dessert spoon of golden syrup

(For ginger biscuits, replace 1 oz of flour with 1 oz of ground ginger; replace 1 oz flour with 1 oz cocoa for choccie biccies; and so on)

Cream the butter and sugar, add the egg and the golden syrup, mix in the flour, roll out the dough then cut it into shapes. Place the biscuits on a baking tray in the oven at 200 deg C for about 10/15 minutes, loosen while soft, then cool on a wire rack. Eat.

Just checking your country code thingy still works... Back in the UK Friday. F.

That'll be Fraser, then, wending his way home from foreign climes. Welcome back!

Today is the first session of my dyslexia teacher course. Am very excited, but also very nervous: I hate the first day of college feeling.

The weekend just gone involved (in chronological order) Guides, train station, curry, sleep, school, schmoozing with potential school parents, passing out on the sofa, making ginger biscuits, driving to Het and Andy's, pizza, a filum, driving home, sleep, Sainsbury's, racing, cooking, lounging, sleep.

The racing in particular was good fun - I've not been to watch the gee-gees before, but I have read the entire collected works of Dick Francis, so spent the whole day looking out for doping scandals, thrown races, murderous vets and unethical owners. Sadly there wasn't much evidence of these, but it might be worth going back for a closer investigation!

Despite a relatively relaxed weekend, I'm exhausted. I have no energy to do anything and I'm struggling to be my normal, enthusiastic self. Any suggestions for a pick-me-up?!

In a dream last night, I picked up a pair of hair straighteners and ran them through my hair.

This morning half of my hair is noticeably lacking in the curl department.

Spoooooooky!

Am having a bit of a crisis: have lost my keys. This means that I can't open my classroom tomorrow morning, nor can I open up my colleague's classroom to clear up the mess I left there today. I am in poo. Waaah!

Today's discovery of the day is spaghetti squash - it's yummy!

I thought I was confused about time: looking at the time stamp on my last past, obviously the pooter is too. Waah!

At a party on a school night, when the wine has been popping out of the fridge with alarming rapidity, it is always a bad mistake to look at your watch. If you do, your exclamation will go as follows:

"Fuck, it's quarter to one, look - 12.47"

Your friends will then look at their time-pieces and shake their heads slightly. You then look more closely at your watch and discover that it's been switched to display the time in a city abbreviated as BER: Berlin, maybe. Or Beruit. Or Bermingham. Or somewhere, but not the time in sunny Derbyshire, and it will take several attempts at button-pressing to switch it back to home time. Even then, at 11.47pm, it's time to head off to bed, so that's where I'm going. Tarra.

Marking work from kids who have just started their A-level course is always difficult - they have no idea of style or technique. I think my brain's about to blow up. Will have to go and appease it by eating lots of food at Ian's party instead. Hurrah for drinking on a school night!

It rained in torrents at break time and the water flowing down the street was probably two foot wide and 5 inches deep. It hit the wall at the bottom of the hill and actually formed into a whirlpool as it rushed down the drain. In the middle of walking to my classroom, my right shoe filled with water. I think I'm developing Trench Foot.

My brain is shrivelling up and dying. *And* my fingers hurt. The marking's building up already. Pah, pah and thrice pah.

My weekend (chronologically):
School, Faff, lunch in House, faff, Sainsbury's, drive, Phil and Linda's wedding, drive, sleep, drive, Cheltenham, eat, lounge, cinema, drive, sleep.

Phil and Linda's wedding reception was great, not least because one group of five guests knew me from 4 different directions: one had been staff on GaSCiT last year; I'd been to a SSAGO rally with another; I'd stuck photos into a wedding album with a third; and the other two knew me by repuation alone - "Oh, so you're THAT Mad!" Scouting and Guiding have a lot to answer for!

My entire journey back from seeing the Boy yesterday was spent on the phone to Charlotte - hurrah for hands-free kits! It took well over an hour, but we finally managed to piece together all the things that have happened since we last saw each other. I feel shockingly aware that there are friends I've hardly spoken to recently: this term's resolution is to be better at keeping in touch.

I have my interview this afternoon for the dyslexia course - better go and organise the cover for my lessons!

First up, cucumbers:

1 cucumber should serve 15 people, according to camp catering experts!! Love CMT

And she's a woman who'd know! It's probably a good job then that the other 14 people weren't very hungry. Moving swiftly on...

Good idea on the jelly babies, something good to use as I am starting a PGCE specialising in that dreaded subject on Monday.

That comment there from Martin, I do believe. Good luck! I had really mixed feeling about my PGCE, but it all came in useful eventually, as will this:

1.2.3.4.5

when I come to cover maths lessons for absent colleagues. Talking of teaching, better go and do some!

So many things to write about, such little time...

School continues apace. My interview for the dyslexia course is on Monday afternoon; my lessons have been moderately well planned; most marking has been completed and returned on time. All in all, it's not going too badly. This year's main change has been the introduction of tutorial time, where tutors can meet with their tutees to monitor academic progress and encourage the wee ones to develop good study skills. Somehow, during the summer holidays, someone decided that this tutor time could also be used to deliver citizenship, which is the government's latest attempt to produce teenagers who know something about the world in which they live.

(Herein lies the opportunity to zoom off down a tangent to whitter on about the increasing pressures of examinations/league tables forcing teachers to stick far more closely to the exam syllabi and therefore ignore the wider aspects of education that people got in the good old days, but I'll restrain myself. For once.)

The topics we have to cover range from the environment to refugees, calling at parliament and voting en route. The only training we have been given for this is a folder of various resources, plus access to some videos and textbooks. I'm lucky: my tutees are girls, they're malleable, and they're going to try their hardest in the weekly session (if only because I live with them and they've seen what I'm like when I get irate!). However, the last thing they want is another didactic, chalk'n'talk lesson inflicted upon them, so I'm currently spending a lot of time deciding how to make our sessions on government and the cabinet more interesting. So far, I've decided that we're going to make cocktail stick puppets of the cabinet (using photos downloaded from the net) and then re-enact key parliamentary debates using haribo and jelly babies. I know that I can then spin this into a "how many jelly babies can you eat?" competition whilst I run a plenary session recapping the key educational points (which is always a useful skill if you can do it) but how do I ensure that the kids realise that not all politicians are small, rounded and made of gelatine?!

Guides started back unofficially last week, but we didn't get the full complement until tonight. It's probably a good job that we had a gentle easing into the term: we have 5 new girls, plus all of them bar one from last year - it was a tad manic! That said, there was a real buzz about them as they planned this half term's programme - if they can keep this up all term it's going to be a real pleasure. Even the naughty ones weren't as naughty as last year: maybe they're eventually growing up!

Other news - my friend discovered today that she's going to have a baby boy early next year, and she's obviously hormonal and delusional enough to be tricked into thinking that I'm sound enough to be morally responsible for her child. This means that I'm going to be his godmother - how scary! For a time I was hoping that I could be the wicked godmother, but then I realised that the role is actully the wicked stepmother, which wasn't what I was planning; seems I'll have to dust off the fairy wings instead. Pah. Just so long as I can wear them with my docs I'll be ok!

Finally, the Boy (for those who were wondering): all good. :-) (I can't write any more for fear that it will cause spontaneous vomiting, which is never good for one's computer keyboard. Be thankful!)

There's one thing worse than having to catch a spider in a glass and remove it from your bath, and that's realising that you forgot to wash the glass before filling it with Ribena.

I thought it tasted stringy.

Simpering and handshaking never got a look-in tonight as I did my duty rounds, because it's the dreaded UCAS Personal Statement time of year. The kids get a limit of 47 lines of type (or that's what they seemed to remember that they had, based on their very vague memories of a VERY IMPORTANT meeting about such things, which took place all of 24 hours ago. But hey, such is life) One girl has written too much, another too little: my job is to prune, encourage and basically bonsai their rambling into something succinct but memorable. Given my tendancy to waffle on in a circumwobbulating sort of way, this is a tad ironic. (Ms Bennett, my English teacher, would be proud to note that I have resisted the temptation to use the adjective "ironical". I tried for a long time to persuade her that it really was a word. Alas, unbeknownst to me, she and Mr Chambers were in collaboration and she used a specially-doctored dictionary to prove me wrong. Gah!) (However, she would be most displeased to note the use of 'circumwobbulating', which is a word that must be used with extreme caution: don't try this at home, children!)

Anyway, moving swifly onwards.

Except I can't: my brain appears to have exploded. All I seem to be able to write is trite phrases about my enduring passion for all of my A-level subjects and my desire to read some extremely relevant subject - such as toe-nail curling for beginners - at university. Better go and make some tea to help me recover.

This year I'm hoping to take a diploma course about teaching dyslexic pupils - it's all part of my master-plan to develop new skills but stay in the classroom, rather than having to face the stress and faff of being a middle manager. I emailed my CV and application letter this morning; I've now been called for interview. I'm scared! I reckon that I'll have to use my usual technique of flippant answers and blase attitude - after all, it got me my job here (when I told the deputy head that my only experience of boarding school was reading Enid Blytyon's Mallory Towers series - whoops!). Off to work on my simpering smile and polite handshake...

you can never eat too much cucumber! It's my preferred PH late night nibble .. besides its about 90% water! Caz

All of this bodes well: after all, I did consume an entire cucumber, which I worried might be a tad excessive. Phew!

Is there a recommended maximum amount of cucumber that should be eaten in one sitting? If so, I think I've just exceeded it. Whoops.

So, which were better: mushrooms bathed in melted butter? Or mushrooms bathed in bed?

Mushroom bed-baths are always a mistake: they splash so much that it makes a real mess of the sheets. Butter's the way to go, and very tasty they were too!

This afternoon, I shall be mostly looking for D of E campsites in the White Peak near to Chatsworth. Thrilling, eh?!

Off now to eat mushrooms bathed in melted butter. Then bed. Sleep well.

String orchestra this evening: the first time I've opened my viola case since tour to Italy in July. My fingers don't know what's hit them, nor do my strings, which had to be hiked up by about three-quarters of a tone. Whoops!

Yesterday I got to leave the delights of the House, the school and the school disco behind me, and headed off to the wide open countryside to join friends on a canalboat. It was lovely and, even better, I was able to return home with some muffins, a present and a man: all good things (certainly in my eyes).

Today has been teaching (on and off) plus netball - twenty minutes of running around and I'm a tad on the worn-out side. Mind you, this time last year, I only managed 5 minutes, so I reckon that's not bad going.

After lunch, I thought I'd have a five minute lie down. I've only just woken up. Hurrah for siestas!

This morning malarky is more than I can cope with. Not even succulent, juicy nectarines can make up for my tiredness. Hey ho. Off to put on my happy face, then to teach.

This afternoon's work was good too, as was this evening's Guides. Now, however, my brain cell's reached saturation point again, not helped by my unwitting involvement in a game of text consequences. At least I can sleep tomorrow afternoon!

Why is it that now I have the option to set up a gmail account (ta Mally) I can't think of anything amusing to have as my email name? Pah!!

hurrah! You're back - and I'm kinda working. .. or would be if this ***** computer had radio access. mutter mutter Charl

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the sound of a woman writing a dissertation. Be alert to this phenomenon: if you see manic looking women loitering in libraries muttering under their breath then go up and make polite conversation, throw books at them, or at least offer them your body - they're only seeking distraction from their academic studies. :-)

School has been great today - hurrah for work! Off now to eat something healthy for lunch...

It's just gone 10.30pm and my braincell's finally gone on strike. I was told today that I need to send a CV and covering letter to apply for a course that I want to do; I've been trying in vain to write it all day. I suspect I'm going to have to give up now or it will just get too cheesy to believe. Hey ho, off to the land of pillows, duvets and starfish-sleeping. G'night.

Start of term nerves - restless sleep, momentary panics, outbreaks of the biggest spots ever seen on one person - hits me every time. This is my eighteenth start of term as a proper teacher and it's still not getting any better. What's making it worse is the realisation that I am just about to start my fourth year at this school: I've been here longer than I was at university. I feel old. At the same time, I feel very excited, and I can't wait to get back to the chalkface (as it were). I suspect I'll sleep soundly tonight!

I've not even taught any lessons so far, but already my kitchen table looks like this:

Eeeek!!

We now have all the new first years and new lower sixth in school, along with various prefects and juniors who have been helping to unload cars and show parents through to the tea and coffee. It's bringing back memories of going off to university, and the worries caused by a new routine. I didn't cope very well with meeting with parents last year, but this year I've been far more relaxed: I'm working on the principle that these people are going to realise soon enough that I'm a nutter, so they might as well discover it now!

It's my first day back at school, although the kids don't come back until tomorrow. I was away until 2 hours before my first commitment of the term - that's what I call making good use of your last few hours of freedom! Now, though, we've had today's quota of training (including the obligatory discussion groups) and I'm contemplating doing some preparation. It's all a bit of a culture shock after weeks and weeks of lounging about; perhaps I need to lie down in a darkened room to help me recover! (This might also help the hangover that's been hanging over all day in a most inconsiderate sort of way. Pah!)

Commentage:

Who baked the bread?

'Twas a collaboration between Ian and I - I did most of the reading of the recipe, whilst Ian did the mixing and kneading. We then talked so much that it cooked in all the hot air we created.

We are glad that planet mad is again running on full steam - it was getting a bit slow over the summmer.

It's nice to be back, although I'm off again this afternoon and will be off-line for another week. This week's exciting destination is Switzerland, the land of cheese, chocolate and cuckoo clocks. After that, I've got a couple of days on camp then it's back to school. The abrupt arrival of term straight after the bank holiday will put a stop to my gallivanting, so I promise to write more on my return! Besides, summers are for living life, not writing about it. Better go and do some packing!

Freshly-baked, warm bread slathered in butter is one of the lovely things in this world. Unfortunately it gives me the hiccups. However, that's not a good reason for not eating it, so eat it I did. Am now full.

Gosh - five posts in a day; in fact, make that six. Blimey. It's just like the good old days here on Planet Mad. Fear not, brave reader, the normal sporadic posting will resume tomorrow! :-)

Ooooh... I like your swanky Blogger toolbary thing. :) - Mal.

As do I, although I have no idea what I did to deserve it. Apparently I can change its colour and things, but have not got a sober enough braincell to do that. Someday, someday. :-)

Mental note: a slightly drunken cook, half a red pepper, an onion, some garlic, mange tout, baby sweetcorn, mushrooms, half a mango, olive oil and some spice-it-up seasoning, all on a bed of thin noodles, makes for a very tasty dinner. Yummy. Off to bake things with Ian now. Why, I'm just so rock n roll.

Party. Sparkly white wine. No food. Whoops.

Holidays are obviously good for me. So far today I have been accused of being tanned, thinner, and loved up. Guilty on all three accounts, yer honour. What's more, there's still more than a week left to go. Must go and snooze for a little while to recover.

I eventually got round the email problem by downloading an entire new mail program and deleting the old one. It seems to have worked, although in the process I've lost all of my email and email addresses. This is careless, but it solves the problem of what to do with the six bazillion emails that loitered in my inbox waiting for me to take action. I've spent quite some time this holiday organising and sorting; this now applies to my electronic communication too. How convenient.

The only downside is that I'm shockingly slack at backing things up, so I've got no record of emails that tell me I'm meant to be doing something, and no way of getting in touch with people to let them know this. If I'm meant to be doing something and I don't quite manage it, then sorry. I'll be sitting here drinking gin and tonic instead. IT's a tough life really.

Penultimate Thursday in August: A-level day. Exam results are up, the exams themselves are getting easier, the subjects are more touchy-feely, it was much harder in the old days when we first had to make parchment from papyrus reeds and harvest squid ink before we could write our exam scripts. Yadda yadda yadda. Yawn. I'm sure some of the mass media simply reprint last year's articles on this subject: it's getting boring - please find something else to talk about.

Here at school, I did the excited wiggle dance, and occasionally went "yessssss" in a sibilant whisper, when I sat in the common room perusing the results today. My P45 won't be in the post just yet, unless they can find another reason. Think I'll go and have some breakfast to celebrate!

Have just got home from an epic voyage of excitment and discovery to discover that I am unable to open my email program because it's logged me out and I can't remember my password. Gaaah! Hacking and geeking are obviously going to be tonight's entertainment.

Signs that you spend too long online:

"Congratulations! We see that you have been using Trillian instant messenger for over 1,250 hours...."

Eeeek! Mental note to self - get out more.

Am supposed to be packing, but I can't be arsed (in true Mad style). Unfortunately packing requires clothes to be clean, which mine aren't, so that's another spanner in the works. Perhaps I should just become a nudist, except a) people would object or point or run off in fear; and b) the straps on my rucksack will rub my shoulders. Pah. I should really go and get it all sorted, but I'm far too busy chatting to people using... ah.... Trillian. Obviously IM is just a displacement activity to avoid doing the nasty, mundane tasks of life. Damn laundry: it's got a lot to answer for!

I ran away last night to pretend to be young. I revved up the Madmobile and zoomed off to Cheltenham for a night out drinking, eating, dancing and general carousing with a bunch of students, some of whom were young enough to have been taught by me. The half-bottle of Southern Comfort went down a treat, and I wasn't arrested for imitating a small hippo on the dance-floor, so it was an all-round good night. This morning was a slightly different, hungover story, although it's always wonderful to wake up next to a man who's prepared to hug you, no matter how much your hair smells of nightclubs.

Tomorrow I head off to York, to Stuart and Lizzie's wedding (wedding number 5 of 6 this year). I then go oop north to stay with Mal in Newcastle, and - as if that weren't enough excitment in itself! - we're going up to Edinburgh to do cultured things like watching Ashley's musical and drinking lots of beer. On Friday, I head back home, frantically repack, then drive down south to Sunny Cornwall* for the weekend. It's likely to be quiet here, but that's not going to be an accurate reflection of my life. Have fun - I know I will!

* And if it's not sunny, I'll be suing it under the Trade Descriptions Act. That'll teach it!

One of my biggest failings is that I can be shockingly lax about paperwork. If I know that it's important, or if I receive it on a day when I'm feeling feckful, I have no problems dealing with life's day-to-day bureaucracy. On a bad day, however, I will look at the envelopes that have arrived in my pigeon hole, work out who sent each one, and then chuck them on a pile, unopened, to await a day when I feel more organised. Understandably, this has lead to some real disasters - cheques nestling in unopened envelopes, bills unpaid for months on end - and I decided that today was the day to do something about it.

A few weeks ago I bought a great drawer unit from a certain Swedish furniture store: it looks just like the drawers we had in junior school, and now cuddles up to my new bookcase in the recently re-arranged hallway. The drawers are just the right size to take A4 paper, which is ideal because I normally file everything in one huge box, and then in sprawling piles on the floor when the boxes are full, so I can never find anything when I need it. For the first time ever, I have become excited about filing.

It's taken me about 5 hours to get through all of my junk. Believe me - there was a lot of it! Everywhere I looked, there was another pile of envelopes, letters, catalogues, magazines; each surface had its own paperwork community. I've even sifted through the paperwork that I'd already filed - I'm never quite sure what to keep and what to throw, so I had a fine collection of phone bills, itemised, dating back to 1999. I waved goodbye to bank statements from my university years. I found 'change of address' cards from people who I know have since moved again. Although I'm knackered, it's been cathartic; I still have a mound of Guide paperwork to deal with, but the end is in sight. The only thing that concerns me is that I've still not found the invite to Phil and Linda's wedding, and I know I had it somewhere. Hey ho - back to the search!

I've just spent the last two hours planning some of next term's teaching. Although this may seem a little premature - after all, it's only the third day of August! - it does mean that I can go away next week without feeling guilty. I have a copy of next year's timetable sitting before me and - with four or five epic jaunts still to go before I start back - it's all a bit surreal at the moment. I think I need to have a lie-down to recover from such excitement!

Blimey O'Reilly - a woman has just driven her big, fancy 4x4 down the road, necking something from a hip flask. How bizarre.

Back again after another weekend of gallivanting. I got to eat lovely food (mostly healthy, some not, all good) and also experienced the pleasures of watching King Arthur in the company of an archaeologist, picnicking on the henge at Avebury, and catching up with family news at my parents' wedding anniversary. It was all low key but good for the soul, even if my own mother didn't recognise me as I walked into the restaurant last night... something to do with the hair* and the frock**, I suspect, although the fact that she wasn't expecting us to turn up may also have been a contributory factor.

* Longer than when she last saw it, although the aubergine colour is gently fading away
** One third of my dress collection, no less.